How Many Ways Can You Rip Out My Heart
by anonyreaderfan
Summary: Two years ago Stefan fled Mystic Falls. Damon has finally settled things in town and is searching for his brother. This fairly short story is about where Stefan has been and with whom and how he is finally rescued. There are other characters besides the brothers involved.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The Vampire Diaries is the property of the CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

~ Two Years Ago ~

"How many more ways can you rip out my heart?" A despairing Stefan asked, outstretched arms expressing his exasperation and pain.

Elena's lips parted but she hesitated, searching her feelings. "I love him Stefan. I can't help how I feel. I know that at one time I felt something for you but I can barely remember it."

Her calm gaze and softly apologetic tone undid him. You don't apologize for breaking someone's heart in the same voice you'd use to apologize for stepping on their toe. All his pain, all his grief, everything they had been to each other meant nothing to her.

He dug his fingertips into the sides of his head, squeezing hard, trying to hold back a tide of black rage that threatened to split his skull.

She reached out a calming hand only to have him jump back out of her reach. His eyes berated her. "I mean nothing to you." He accused.

"No, you're important to Damon and we're frie . . "

He was gone before she finished the words. Downstairs, he roughly slammed past his brother almost knocking him over.

Damon rushed after him, but stopped on the edge of the lawn, realizing it was futile.

"Stefan!" He called after him.

Damon, hands on his hips, shook his head, knowing his brother was too upset to talk to right now. Once Stefan cooled down it would be time to have that long overdue heart-to-heart talk. Time to mend fences and fix this situation. They needed to present a united front to deal with this new menace in Mystic Falls. If he had only known it was the last he would see or hear from his brother for two years he would have tried harder to stop him.


	2. Sin City

~ "Present" Day ~

They stepped out of the airport into the blistering heat of Las Vegas. Elena could barely contain her excitement. She had never been here before and the sight of slot machines and the oversized billboards advertising the shows in the airport thrilled her, wetting her appetite for more.

They got in line for a taxi and were quickly out of the airport and on the Strip. Damon spared her a smile as he watched her press her face against the window like a little girl, staring at the people and the casinos whose names were legends she had only read about or seen on TV.

"Where to?" The taciturn cab driver asked.

"The Venetian." Damon drummed his fingers restlessly on the arm rest, beating out a staccato rhythm. He was nervous and on edge, craving a drink to settle his tense gut. He was still not sure bringing Elena along was the right thing. He didn't know how Stefan would react to her and he wasn't sure who or what they would be running into. Vegas could be a tough town and if it came to that, this wouldn't be the first time he had to tuck his tail between his legs and hightail it out in the wee hours of the morning because he had made things too hot for himself.

The butterflies in the pit of his stomach came from the fact that he finally had a lead on his brother. Two years without a word. There had been suspicious "animal" killings but by the time he got to the scenes it was too late to confirm if it had been him. And then about a year ago even that stopped. Nothing. It was like he disappeared off the face of the earth.

He had never known Stefan to come out of a ripper phase without intervention and he had guaranteed that there was no Lexi around to save him. At night, when Elena was fast asleep that was one of the many things that disturbed his rest. He had robbed his little brother of his guardian angel and the guilt was overwhelming.

He had become frantic, fearing the worst while at the same time refusing to consider the possibility that his brother was dead.

He had even humbled himself and gone hat in hand to Klaus, begging for help. Klaus just smiled that infuriating, superior, insincere smile that showed his dimples and made Damon want to wipe it off his face with his fists. Caroline hadn't even given him the courtesy of a reply when he asked her to intervene with the hybrid. The look of contempt she gave him both angered him and made him feel small at the same time. Bonnie had flatly refused to help him track Stefan. She didn't come out and say it but her eyes flickering between him and Elena clearly told him her sympathy was with his brother.

He had called everyone he knew, even friends of acquaintances, but after two years only one contact finally came through with any knowledge of Stefan. The details had been sketchy. Rumor was Stefan had been spotted here with an older vampire named Tara. That was it, nothing concrete but it was the only lead Damon had and he wasn't going to pass it up.

Now that they were actually here Damon was conflicted. He loved Elena to distraction while at the same time her obvious, almost excessive adoration scared him. Elena, the human who had seemed to take delight in doing the exact opposite of what he said, was a vampire who followed his every lead, leaving him doubting that her love was real. Living with that constant uncertainty was sheer torture.

As they pulled in and got out, the cabbie handed over their modest luggage to the bellboy. They had packed light since most of Vegas was fine with casual wear. If they needed additional clothes they planned on picking them up locally.

Elena stood openmouthed as she stared upward at the decorated ceilings in the lobby. Damon couldn't help smiling at her awe. She caught him watching her and flashed him a big smile that lit up her eyes. "Go ahead. Call me a hick. I don't care. It's beautiful."

They spent the afternoon strolling up and down the strip, sampling drinks, wandering through the public areas of the big hotels, seeing the shows, sampling the excitement. Elena had to watch every show at Caesars and couldn't wait until it got dark so she could see the Pirate show at Treasure Island and the light show at the Bellagio fountains. They also prowled the side streets and small local businesses and casinos.

He was happy that she was so thrilled with this trip but at the same time he couldn't shake an inner sadness. This was most likely the beginning of the end. He had to harden his resolve and unsire her. His failure or rather his delay in doing so had destroyed his brother's life and their relationship.

Damon wasn't wasting his time while they played tourist. Everywhere they went he kept an eye out for former contacts. Damon spoke to anyone he had the slightest acquaintance with and everyone he thought was in the know, always asking if anyone had knowledge of his brother or a vampire called Tara.

He had just about given up when he remembered an old fling of his. She adored the Vegas life and was one of the few vampires who never changed towns. He inquired after her with better success and was told he could find her in Old Vegas. Late that night they set out for the older part of town.

He went up and down Fremont Street until he finally ran her to the ground at the Golden Nugget. She had made Vegas her home for the last sixty years by changing her name, her hair color, and her job every five years or so. She was proud of the fact that she had worked in every show in Vegas. A different hair style and makeup, a new name and no one was the wiser. No one noticed the chorus girls. They came, got married, and left. She made friends with the new girls as they hit town.

The girl, a lively, buxom, currently dyed blonde with prominent white teeth was overjoyed to see Damon again. He greeted her happily as he unwound her arms and legs from around his torso with difficulty. Damon was fond of her because while she clearly was attracted to him and welcomed him eagerly when he came to town she knew she was just a pleasant distraction for him. She cheerfully enjoyed him when he visited and if she felt a twinge of sadness when he left she was too savvy to show it.

Elena, plagued with jealousy, was not very happy over the exuberance of the greeting. Damon, with an apologetic glance at Debbi, told her not to be jealous. His word was good enough for Elena and she greeted the girl warmly.

The vampire, "I'm Debbi with an I" as she cheerfully informed Elena, was amused by the sudden change in attitude. She gave Damon a knowing smile. "Sired?"

Damon looked uncomfortable and switched the subject. "Let's get a drink and talk."

The three sat at a table and Damon quickly brought up the reason he was in Vegas. "Have you seen Stefan?"

Debbi frowned and shook her head. "I haven't but doesn't mean he isn't here. Vegas is a little town for the insiders but there's circles that don't mix. I know the lower, middle, and some of the upper echelons but the upper upper?" She shook her head again. "Above me."

Damon frowned and took a pull at his drink. "How about a vampire named Tara. Older than him but supposed to be a looker."

Debbi brightened, happy to be able to help Damon. "Yup. I recognize the name. Now she is part of the upper upper. " She thought for a moment brow wrinkling in concentration. "If it's who I think it is, she's old Damon, real old with powerful friends. You gonna wanna be careful around her if she's claimed your brother."

Damon shrugged it off. "You wouldn't believe the age of some of the vampire's I've messed with." A thought struck him and he made a face. "Whatya mean claimed?"

Debbi expertly bit a lemon and tossed down a shot. She sucked in air as it hit her stomach and then grimaced. "The old ones are strange Damon. Some of them are loners but some of them gather . . a group . . um . . maybe it's like they have a circle of friends . . nooo . . not friends . . more like servants."

She cocked an eyebrow at Damon and waved her hands uncertainly. "Like maybe they were noble or something when they were human and they like people obeying them. Just sayin . . . if she thinks Stefan is hers she's not gonna let him go."

Elena looked concerned but Damon just reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Where can I find this Tara?"

Debbi tapped her long polished nails on the table. "There's this high society fling tomorrow night. It would be her type of thing. You're gonna half to compel your way in." She looked them both over. "You can't go dressing the way you are now. This is a tux and gown event."

"Okay." Damon said. "Anything else we should know?"

Debbi grinned. "This is Vegas baby. Bring money cause there's gonna be some high stakes gamblin."

Damon's look was pure mischief as he rubbed his hands together. "Nothing I like better than bettin it all on a long shot. Go big or don't go at all is my motto."

Debbi laughed and shook her head, totally amused by his bad boy demeanor. She borrowed a pen from the bartender and wrote some directions and information on a napkin. Elena got up and wondered over to one of the slot machines.

As soon as she left the table Debbi looked up, batted her fake lashes and puckered her bright red lips to blow a kiss at Damon. "Stop around some time by yourself and we can relive old times." She whispered.

Damon flicked her cheek gently and winked at her. "This is a business trip. Thanks for the help. Maybe next time."


	3. The Quarry Is Found

They made a handsome couple. Elena dressed in a beautiful brown and gold evening gown that complemented her warm complexion and Damon looking like a model in his fashionable tuxedo. Clothing of any kind was available in Vegas provided one had the money. He openly ogled her up and down with a proud possessive stare and she returned the look. "You're the handsomest man here." She whispered.

Damon winked at her as they hung far back from the crowd queuing up to enter a large white building. Damon had coached Elena and she was letter perfect. They pretended to make small talk while he fiddled with her bracelet until a likely couple, separated from the herd of people streaming in, came near them. Damon, waiting until precisely the correct moment, turned and with great care accidentally bumped into him. The man looked at Damon's face as Damon put a hand out to steady himself and his eyes were caught. Elena quickly stepped between the man and the woman and captured her attention.

"What is this affair and how do you gain entry? Smile while you're talking to me." Damon commanded, a friendly smile on his face while laughing lightly.

"It's a special exhibition of a privately owned painting by Matisse. It's a charity event, a thousand dollars a couple. I have our invitations." The man cheerfully told Damon.

"Give them to me. You and your wife are not feeling well . . bad food and you want to go home and spend the evening quietly."

Elena dilated her pupils and told the woman. "Your stomach is bothering you. Must be what you had for lunch."

The compelled man rubbed his stomach. "You know I'm not feeling that good."

"Me either." His wife agreed, moaning slightly.

"Hey, would you like our invitations?" He reached into his tuxedo pocket, offering them to Damon.

"Why thank you." Damon responded politely as he took them. "I know you'll feel better tomorrow. You'll also feel pleased with yourself that you were able to help such a nice young couple."

The compelled pair smiled and quickly left for home.

Damon put his hand on the small of Elena's back and politely ushered her along. They easily blended in with the crowd of well dressed men and woman heading into the large building. The interior was lavish without being gaudy. _Tastefully elegant_ passed through Damon's mind.

There was a security area that everyone funneled through as invitations were carefully checked. Damon smiled cheerfully at the somber guard with the earplug, watched by another man whose demeanor and dress screamed private security guard.

As they passed through the check point they entered a crowded gallery. An oil painting on an easel, highlighted by discreet lighting was the focal point of the room. There were two men and a woman standing near the painting. They were obviously the organizers and perhaps the owner of the painting. They were greeting people as they moved close to view the painting, protected behind red ropes and by armed security guards. Security cameras were openly evident.

One of the men drew all eyes to himself. He was a large man, at least six foot three with a powerful frame, and he dwarfed the slender man and woman standing near him. His thick brown hair sprinkled with gray, was neatly pulled back in a pony tail, with a mustache of the same brown merging into a short beard framing his face. His high bridged nose and piercing hazel eyes under thick brows made him striking but not everyone would call him handsome. Still he had rugged good looks. Only a custom made tuxedo could have fit those broad shoulders and still be molded to the rest of his body. The pants were perfectly tailored and the Italian leather shoes worked with the rest of his clothes to make him the picture of elegance.

The big man turned towards Damon as if he had caught him on radar so Damon gave him a friendly nod. He was confused by the enigmatic smile that was returned. Elena noticed the little byplay and whispered. "Do you two know each other?"

Damon shrugged, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't recognize him offhand but I think maybe I'm forgetting something. Like I should know him or of him."

Something was unsettling him but he couldn't pinpoint it. "Let's avoid him just to be on the safe side."

Elena nodded agreement and they followed another crowd moving into a large ballroom type area. A band was playing and a lavish buffet was set up. It was crowded enough that they could move around unobtrusively. Damon grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Elena. They stood together, not quite back to back, but angled so they could cover most of the room.

They discretely searched the crowd. Elena was the first to speak. "There . . . I think that's . . . yes . . that's him."

Her hesitancy turned to surety as a dancing couple twirled. Damon slowly turned, careful to attract no attention.

He stood behind Elena looking over his shoulder.

That was definitely his brother, dashing in an immaculately tailored tuxedo, his hair carefully brushed, his green eyes flashing. He was squiring a large woman, her heels making her tower a couple of inches over him, around the floor. She was a deep bosomed woman, built on queenly lines. Her skin was stark white and her midnight black hair was so dark it shone with blue highlights under the lights on the dance floor. This was no girl trembling on the brink of womanhood but a woman of experience. She was beautiful but at least thirty years old. Her dress was constructed to show off her curves and prominently displayed a deep décolletage. Her blood red lips were lush and full and she kept her dark eyes fastened hungrily on her dance partner. He gazed deep into hers as they danced, oblivious to everything and everyone around them.

Despite her size he easily manuvered her around the floor avoiding other dancing couples.

Elena gazed at her in fascination. She nudged Damon, leaning back against him to whisper. "She looks just like I've always imagined the wicked queen in Snow White would look."

Damon nodded a silent agreement without taking his eyes off the couple.

Damon closely watched them and then as Stefan twirled her around he caught a really good view of her face.

His face showed alarm as something finally clicked in his mind and he mumbled mostly to himself. "Oh no. Tara . .Tara . . of course! How could I be so stupid?" He made a face and his knees partially buckled. "And the big guy. Oh no!" If they hadn't been in such a public place he would have slapped his forehead in frustration at his own obtuseness.

Elena's head spun back around towards Damon as she picked up on his alarm. "What?" She whispered. "What's wrong?"

Damon put his lips next to her ear. "We have to get out of here now. That's Atarah. We do NOT want to confront her directly."

He linked his arm with hers and leaned his head towards her, smiling and faking a light laugh, pretending amusement.

"Move with me now." He whispered urgently.

Unfortunately Stefan chose that moment to look over and he froze as he spotted the two of them. His abrupt halt startled his partner and if she hadn't been following his body so closely she would have fallen over. One quick look at his white face and pinched nostrils and then her head swiveled in the direction of his angry gaze.

Damon hustled Elena along as quickly as possible without making a scene. As they passed a waiter he put both their glasses on the man's tray and they moved in a beeline towards an exit door. They made it to the outside hall when there was a whoosh of air and they were both pinned up against the wall, feet dangling off the floor, by a big strong hand clamped around their necks.

Elena's feet flailed helplessly as the harsh grip on her neck cut off all air. One of her heels slipped off while the other hung on by a toe. Damon, experienced enough to know that fighting was useless, instead studied the man holding him up.

It was the large man that had been standing next to the painting greeting guests. His long muscular arms were straight out and showed no strain even though he was holding up a person in each.

The thin lips smiled as he watched Elena's struggles. "Newborn, stop struggling. Your body instinctively remembers that it once required air but your vampire body does not need it. Relax and you will realize that you do not need to breathe. "

As his voice penetrated her consciousness she ceased her panicked struggles and calmed herself. Once she comprehended that she was not really suffocating she relaxed in his grip.

Seeing she had herself under control the large man turned his attention to Damon. "So young vampire do you care to explain yourself?"

Damon could not get enough air through the vice like grip to speak so he could only make strangled noises. The large man was clearly toying with him. "Oh, right. You can't get enough air to speak."

Suddenly his eyes shifted focus as he appeared to be listening to something or someone. He spoke in a guttural language that Damon not only didn't understand but had never heard before. He appeared to get a response because he gave a little nod.

"It appears your brother has had a temper tantrum and fled. So come in and explain yourselves."

Damon's eyebrows rose as he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Elena stumbled, rubbing her throat, and he quickly helped her regain her balance. After supporting her as she slipped into her shoes he asked. "How did you kn . . "

The big man interrupted. "How did I know who you were? You and the current doppelganger are in your brother's nightmares constantly."

Elena and Damon exchanged quick guilty glances and then she moved closer to Damon instinctively seeking protection. The large vampire made her nervous. She searched her feelings and realized it was the sheer physical size of him that intimidated her. She had certainly felt less threatened around some of the Originals.

He motioned them to precede him. As they came near the entrance three humans, obviously bouncers slash bodyguards, sternly asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, these are friends of mine." The big man smiled easily. "We were just having a private talk. It's time to go back in and join the festivities."


	4. Who's The Quarry Now?

The big man motioned them past him and into another room that they were not aware existed. There were a series of tables with cards or other games of chance being played. A few people looked up as they entered but most were too engrossed in their particular obsession to even notice that someone new had entered the room.

Victor ushered them over to one of the smaller card tables, rather isolated from the others. He motioned to two men sitting at the table and they immediately rose and gave their seats to Damon and Elena. The woman he had identified as Atarah sat at the table, totally at ease. A glass of champagne rested next to her right hand.

The big man moved around the table and sat next to her. Damon glanced around uneasily, unconsciously looking for an escape route.

Damon silently cursed himself. His obsession with finding his brother had blinded him to an obvious danger and he had allowed himself to be trapped like a blundering idiot.

Atarah's eyes were fixed on Elena. "Remarkable. Are you sure she is not Katerina?"

Victor reassured her. "It is the second doppelganger all right. Look at the way she turns to him constantly for reassurance."

Damon was irritated that he spoke as if they weren't there. He decided he had nothing to lose and went on the offensive. "Wouldn't introductions be in order?"

"Of course. Where are my manners?" The big man replied easily. "This is my mate Atarah as you surmised."

Rather formally he said. "I am Victor. We are first generation born of Kol so we have adopted the surname Kolsonn." His prim and proper manner of speaking reminded Damon of a bygone era when things were more structured. He noticed that both of them spoke very correct English without using contractions as if it was a language they had been formally taught.

Elena, looking at them together, had at first thought Atarah was large for a woman. She certainly looked big when she was dancing with Stefan but she was not too big for the man who was her mate.

She spoke for the first time phrasing her speech as a question. "You seem familiar with the doppelgangers and what they involve?"

"All of the elder ones are familiar with the Original witch and the curse . . and the attempts to break it. And as my mate told you, you and your sire figure prominently in Stefan's nightmares." Atarah took it upon herself to answer. She sipped her champagne still eying Elena curiously.

"Speaking of my brother, where is he?" Damon lifted a hand at a waiter and was instantly offered a tray. He took two drinks and gave one to Elena. As Victor raised an eyebrow at him, he twinkled. "Might as well be comfortable."

Atarah answered again. "He had a fit when he realized it was you and flashed out of here. I had to have seven people compelled. " She nodded thanks at several of those sitting around the table. " I also had to cut short the festivities for two of our group so they could escort him home."

Damon's eyes flickered from side to side, counting the vampires.

Victor, noticing his eye movements and reading his thoughts, smiled. "Yes, you are totally outnumbered. There are many more of us than you two and even the youngest of us is four hundred years old."

Damon cocked an eye at him. "A firstborn of Kol, huh? How old would that make you, if it's not too rude to ask?"

Victor leaned back and drummed his fingers on the table before apparently deciding to answer. "About nine hundred and fifty or so years."

Elena's eyes widened slightly and she stole a sideways glance at Damon. He appeared nonchalant but secretly he was worried. What was Stefan doing with these people?

"Well, even though this is a pleasant evening I'd like to see my brother." Damon didn't believe his request would be honored but on the other hand if you don't ask you don't get.

The big man smiled. "There is plenty of food and drink and the band in the other room is good. Spend some time with us. There are a few things I would like confirmed."

A sharp glance and a question was snapped at him by Victor. "Where is Mikael?"

Damon blinked, surprised. "He's burnt toast." He snapped back. "Klaus stabbed him with a stake from the white oak tree."

Atarah and Victor exchanged a glance and when they turned back they had satisfied smiles on their faces. "Your brother told us as much but it is good to have confirmation."

"Old man Mikaelson doesn't appear to have been very popular." Damon resumed his normal cocky attitude.

Victor's eyes were shaded and his face grim. "Children of his children had reason to fear him."

His mood seemed to lift and he asked. "And Klaus, how has he taken the loss of his precious hybrids two years ago?"

"He's coping. There were . . ah . . a lot of things to keep us busy." Damon remained cautious, not wanting to talk about the fight against Silas.

A knowing grin was Victor's only response. Somehow Damon had the impression that he already knew the answers and was just toying with him.

Damon decided to go on the offensive again. "So what's the story with my brother? Why are you acting as some type of gatekeeper?"

Victor picked up his brandy snifter and swirled it before gently inhaling the bouquet and then swallowing some. He raised a hand and a waitperson brought a wooden box and flipped it open in front of him. Victor chose a cigar and raised an eyebrow at Damon, obviously offering him one.

Damon pursed his lips before saying. "Don't mind if I do." He recognized a Cuban cigar when he smelled one. Victor chopped of the tip before lighting it and passed the cutter to Damon. Damon mimicked him and was soon inhaling a lungful of the fragrant smoke.

Elena scrunched her nose up at the smell. "That's revolting."

"No, you just have to learn to appreciate it." Damon responded before he thought.

"Hmmm! You're right. It is growing on me." Elena changed her mind.

Damon winced while Atarah simply looked amused. She rolled her eyes and murmured. "Oh these sire bonds."

"Whatta ya want with my brother?" Damon asked again.

Atarah looked amused while Victor blinked. "You cannot guess?"

"No, I can't guess." Damon's tone was acerbic. "If I knew I wouldn't ask."

"Careful young one. I do not like your tone." Victor warned, his deep voice almost a growl. He gave Damon a measuring glance. "Elijah is amused by the arrogance of young vampires. I am not."

Damon took a deep steadying breath and said. "Please just tell me what you're doing with my brother."

"His blood." Victor said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And sex." Atarah added mischievously.

Damon's mouth dropped open as he looked between them.

"Yuck." He said to Victor and "Really?" to Atarah.

"You don't care that she has sex with a vampire young enough to be her . . her grandson ten times over." His flailing hands showed his disgust as he flung that at the large man.

"Sex with both of us." Victor corrected. "Does that make it better?" He asked fatuously.

"NO!" Damon protested. "That's . . that's awful."

Elena's face clearly expressed her disgust. "Eew."

The rest of the vampires around the table burst out laughing. "You brother is a delectable morsel." An older man proclaimed. "I wanted him but Victor won't share." A blonde woman who hung on his shoulder confirmed. "They are so stingy with their pets."

Damon felt like he was missing something. "Why HIS blood?"

His honest puzzlement must have been apparent in his voice because Victor explained. "He is a ripper."

When Damon still looked stymied the vampire who had spoken before said. "He doesn't know Victor."

Victor nodded. "That is becoming apparent."

He took another sip of brandy and pointed to it and then Damon. Damon replied to the unspoken question. "Sure."

A snifter was soon placed in front of him. He gave an appreciative grunt as he sipped the fine brandy. "Apparently only the best for you."

"Now that is quite true." The big man agreed. "Which explains why your brother."

As Damon and Elena exchanged confused glances and both still appeared mystified the big man continued.

"So my ignorant ones the best blood is ripper blood. It is rich and sweet beyond any other blood."

Elena couldn't help herself. "Why? Why is he a ripper? Why is his blood so good? I don't understand any of it." She looked beseechingly at the big man. "I want to understand why he loses control. He's such a good person and then he just goes crazy."

Atarah smiled and reached out a hand to her mate's shoulder. "Tell the children." She urged.

Victor leaned back and assumed a lecturer's tone. "Vampires are an abomination of nature. Nothing is supposed to live forever. We upset the balance that exists between all living things. A ripper happens when someone with a pure soul is sullied by being turned into a vampire."

Victor looked at Damon. "You're brother is such a one. He should never have been turned."

"But it can't be pure any longer." Damon argued. "He has killed so . ." He stopped unwilling to betray his brother but Victor just laughed.

"His soul is like a shining diamond. It may be coated with the filth of the world or his deeds but the essential purity is never sullied. The purity of his soul cannot live in balance with the demands of a vampire. He is in constant discord and as such cannot maintain control."

"Oh, he will have periods where he is able to suppress his urges but he walks a fine hairline. One false step, one foot out of line and he is thrown into disarray."

Damon looked at the depths of his drink as he absorbed what Victor was saying. He looked up to see the big man studying him.

"If I believe you . . and I'm not saying I do . . that still doesn't explain why his blood is so . . so tempting."

"That I cannot explain but it is." The big man shrugged.

Atarah purred. "I can vouch for it personally."

Victor's brow wrinkled as he thought it over. "Drinking blood from another vampire is a very intimate pleasure. For some reason the blood of a ripper is extraordinarily appealing to another vampire. Some even find it addictive especially when mixed with sex."

Damon grimaced. "I don't think . . " His voice trailed off as a picture suddenly popped into his mind. Mikael draining Stefan instead of breaking his neck. He had asked Mikael why he did that but Mikael had only answered 'Why not?' But Damon remembered his strange reaction. His eyes had closed momentarily and he had sucked in air with a hiss. In hindsight he now wondered if the handkerchief held in front of his face was to wipe off blood or hide his expression.

Damon's momentary abstraction was not interrupted by any of the Vegas vampires. He came back to the moment to see a concerned Elena staring at him. He gave her a reassuring smile before asking Victor his next question.

"How long has Stefan been with you?"

Atarah again was the one who answered. "About a year. I found him in an alleyway practically decapitating his prey. We control this town and we do not allow our existence to be noted."

Victor absently added. "It is not wise to advertise your presence young one. As powerful as we vampires are there are many things in this world that seek to bring us down."

"I recognized him for what he was immediately and I brought him home as a present for my mate." She added. "And myself of course."

Victor smiled at her. "It is indeed rare to find a ripper."

"They don't usually live long." Another vampire added thoughtfully.

Damon looked from the vampire who spoke to Victor who confirmed. "They often kill themselves or are so careless in their kills that a hunter or witch takes them down. Your brother is actually strong to have survived for so long. But then again he has had help or so he told me."

Elena spoke up. "He had a good friend Lexi." And then wished she had held her tongue when Atarah chimed in.

"Yes, but you." She pointed a long painted fingernail at Damon. "killed her didn't you? Deprived your brother of his anchor to sanity."

She gave a hard tinkling laugh. "Not very nice."

Elena couldn't help herself. She tried to defend Damon. "He was trying to protect his brother and himself from the townspeople."

Damon's face hardened as her defense of him caused jeering laughter.

"Stop. Stop." Victor good-naturedly requested. "You hurt the newborn when you attack her sire."

"He doesn't belong with you people. You've had him for a year. Let me talk to him. I want him out of here." Damon argued.

Atarah stopped smiling and she narrowed her eyes at Damon.

Victor's face became stern. "He has been with us a year. A year without killing. A year of relative peace for him. We intervene and soothe him when his nightmares torture him."

Damon passionately and unceremoniously interrupted him. "This" He waved his arms taking in the group. "is not right for him. He's not a player. This would be abhorrent to him. He's always been a one girl guy."

Damon knew he made a mistake as soon as the last sentence left his mouth. He wished he could have swallowed his words before they got out.

Victor immediately pounced. "But you stole that girl from him, didn't you? You went for her knowing she was his. Knowing she loved him."

Atarah, a gloating smirk on her face, was openly enjoying his discomfort.

Damon almost growled with frustration.

Victor spoke again and his tone was firm. ""Your brother stays with us and it must be obvious to you by his actions that he has no desire to talk to you."

Damon partially opened his mouth to object but then closed it as he read the finality in Victor's face. He knew there would be no negotiation with him.

Victor waved his hands expansively. "You are welcome to enjoy the buffet, the music, and if you are discreet you may feed."

Damon nodded and pushed back his chair. Elena rose at the same time he did and he took her hand to lead her out. His face was grim as he left. This was by no means over. He had lost this particular skirmish but he was not ready to concede the war.


	5. Roof Talk

The big man abruptly woke and the manner of his waking revealed his inhumanity. His eyelids were shut tight one moment; the next instant they were wide open and he was alert. Not a twitch of skin or muscle betrayed his waking state. His limbs and face stayed lax, his breathing never hitched or changed tempo.

He quickly used his hyper senses to determine what had roused him from his deep sleep. He needed no more than ten seconds to realize Stefan was gone from their bed. He had refused their requests to discuss his brother, maintaining a steadfast silence, and they had not pressed him.

He rose from the extra-large custom king size bed in one fluid motion. His movement, quiet as it was, woke Atarah. She had also fallen into a deep sleep, both of them sated on Stefan's rich blood. Her lids rose independently with no other body movement betraying her. This instant wakefulness was ingrained in both of them from years of struggling to survive. Both had known what it was to be hunted relentlessly by enemies, both mortal and immortal. As firstborns of an Original many of their brethren had fallen to Mikael. The unwary were swiftly weeded out.

She also speedily came to the same realization. They were so attuned to each other that they needed no explanations.

"Do you want help?"

"No my love, go back to sleep. I'll handle him."

She closed her eyes but stayed aware while he pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

He whisked down to the kitchen and poured a plastic cup full of blood. He knew exactly where to find Stefan. Most of the house was flat but as a needless whimsy in this hot dry climate the architect had added a steep east coast type pitched roof. Stefan inevitably headed for that spot when troubled, perhaps finding some type of comfort in that small reminder of his home.

Sure enough Stefan sat close to the peak, knees bent, hands loosely clasped on top of them, staring at the still black early morning sky. It was hot even this late at night with not a breeze stirring.

Victor, surprisingly nimble considering his size, side stepped out on the roof and sat, mimicking Stefan's position. He handed him the cup of blood. "Drink. We took a lot from you and we don't want you getting dizzy and falling."

"I'll heal." Stefan appeared indifferent to the prospect of injuries but he did take the cup and drain it.

"Of course you will but why endure the pain?" The big man reasoned.

Stefan carefully balanced the empty container on the peak of the roof, taking his time, possibly trying to postpone the inevitable conversation.

Victor granted him this temporary reprieve and they sat in silence for awhile both looking at the sky. Victor finally broached the subject Stefan hoped to avoid. "Why are you so upset?"

"I'm not upset." Stefan denied with a shake of his head.

"You cannot hide it from me." Victor pointed out. "I can smell the adrenaline coursing through your body. The fine hairs on your arms are standing up, almost electrified. Your jaw muscles are tense and your hands have a slight tremor that you try to stop by clenching them tightly."

Stefan didn't answer but quickly moistened his lips to relax his face and dropped his hands down, tucking them under his butt.

The gesture stirred an ancient recollection in the old one. Startled, he searched his mind wondering where the memory came from. He didn't fight for it; just allowed it to rise to the surface of his mind. Gradually he realized it was from his human life. One of his sons? The eldest? One of the middle ones? Vaguely he remembered sitting around a campfire, a boy was trembling with rage and he was scolding him, reminding him that one did not allow one's emotions to overrule one's reason in battle. The boy had hidden his hands with the exact same gesture. He couldn't remember which son or which battle and he soon gave up the struggle. His human life was long behind him and the fact that he remembered something so insignificant surprised him.

He was even more amazed when he realized that the gesture stirred a slight paternal feeling in him. He quickly crushed it. This boy . . no this man was a plaything, a toy for him and his mate.

"Will I ever learn control?" Stefan finally asked despairingly.

Victor thought carefully before responding. "Most vampires don't learn control until they're around two hundred. They then seem to be able to override their heightened emotions and maintain balance. Even your hot headed brother will become more cautious."

The older vampire caught the twisted smile that appeared on Stefan's face as he listened carefully to his words. "Most?" Stefan prodded.

Victor's hesitation caused Stefan to plead. "Please . . the truth." He sighed deeply and brought one hand up to scrub his forehead. "I'm so tired of lies."

"You, my ripper, will never attain that kind of control. It is the nature of your beast. You will always fight and sometimes lose the battle. It is inevitable. No matter how hard you try you will sometimes need help to get back under control." The big man looked over to judge the effect of his words.

Stefan's face reflected his struggle to absorb the information. He nodded as if hearing something he dreaded. "I've been afraid of that for a long time now."

He finally shrugged, seeming to become somewhat reconciled to his fate. "Well, at least now I know."

Victor had sat quietly watching Stefan's expression change as he resisted and finally accepted the truth.

"What is it about this girl that sets you on edge? Makes you rage?" Victor gave in to his very real curiosity. "She is beautiful but there are others whose beauty matches or surpasses her. What is so special about her for you?"

Stefan swallowed several times. He folded his hands on his knees and stared at them.

When he finally spoke, he spoke passionately, willing, wanting Victor to understand.

"I met her at a time when I was at a loss in my life. So tired of just living for living's sake. So tired of fighting myself and for what? And then I saw her go off the bridge and I rescued her. She looked just like Katherine and my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know her and she was everything I ever wanted in life. She had courage and sweetness and honesty. We thought the same things in life were important. It was like a dream . . the good kind where everything goes right. She had given up on life and I helped her want to live again. And she . . she represented hope to me. She gave me the courage and the strength to fight what I am. She loved me and I loved her. I would have never left her. She could have had children with another man, grown old and wrinkled. I would have lived with her and died when she did. She was my chance at the life I never had. The life that was taken from me. "

He repeated softly now. "Just a boy and a girl who loved each other, made each other want to live again, and that was enough for us."

His voice turned bitter. "Then my brother came. He didn't love her at first but he tried to destroy what we had, drive a wedge between us. Like he had to ruin everything else in my life."

He hung his head. "And he ended up loving her and he made her love him."

Stefan's mouth opened but he couldn't make words come out. His voice caught when he could finally speak. He turned to Victor holding out his cupped hands, eyes filled with pain.

"It was like I held a perfect bright, shining angel in my hands and then right before my eyes it turned into papier-mâché. And Damon kept raining on it and it melted and I was left with a sticky wet mess in my hands."

Stefan stared at his cupped hands as if he could actually see something there.

"When I realized that she didn't love me anymore, didn't even remember loving me and that he had betrayed me I just wanted to get as far away as possible. I didn't want to be reminded every day of what I thought was possible. Of what I lost."

Something in Victor's face made Stefan add. "Don't bother telling me I was an idiot. I've been told it many times before by more than one person."

"The sight of her is torture. It brings all the pain back. She reminds me of everything I had hoped to have. Everything I can't have . . will never have. Every word she speaks reminds me I was just stupid to ever have hope."

"And your brother?" Victor asked.

Stefan twisted his hands while a harsh laugh escaped him. "I thought we could be what we used to be to each other. Best friends, brothers. All an illusion. Just another pipe dream."

He bowed his head. "Nothing but betrayal. Nothing but lies."

Pride kept the tears from his eyes but he couldn't keep Victor from hearing them in his voice.

He jerked his head up and spoke fiercely. "I want nothing to do with them. Every time I look at them I feel like there's a knife twisting in my gut. I want them behind me. I need to start over."

The big man stared at Stefan's profile for a moment before he looked away and offered. "I can solve this problem for you permanently."

Stefan looked puzzled for a moment before realizing what Victor was offering. He quickly blurted out. "Don't kill them! Please!" He begged.

Victor smiled, amused by Stefan's abrupt turn-around. "Your brother will not stop, you know. He will find a way to get to you. If that happens can you deal with it?"

Stefan took a deep shaky breath. "I'd rather suffer than have them killed."

"Then I will not kill them." Victor promised.

Stefan looked directly at him and spoke formally. "Thank you."

He then reached down and painstakingly picked up some of the tiny bits of gravel that invariably find their way to rooftops and flung them one by one off the roof. When he tossed the last one he wiped his hands on his pants and let them rest on the middle of his thighs. He turned again to Victor.

"When . . Ah . . I" Stefan seemed to have trouble getting the words out.

"What?" Victor inquired.

"I want you to teach me as much control as you can so when you get tired of me and send me away, I'll be as strong as possible." Stefan spoke in earnest, face serious.

The big man carefully hid his amusement from the, to him, youngster. "You don't understand how rare and valuable you are Stefan. I doubt very much we will tire of you but we will continue to teach you."

Victor rose up and brushed his sweats off. "Really this roof business is so undignified. Are you coming down?"

Stefan shook his head. "I want to watch the sun rise." He looked up at the big man. "I'll be fine."

Victor just smiled, brushed a hand through Stefan's hair, and left. He climbed back into the house and noiselessly entered the bedroom.

He didn't immediately settle back into bed, just sat on the edge thinking. He felt a hand touch his shoulder comfortingly.

"The young always suffer." Atarah had, of course, heard every word. She spoke in one of the ancient tongues they used when they wanted their conversations private.

He smiled, turning his head to kiss her hand.

"This one will always suffer. He will never be free of the battle that rages inside him." Victor replied in the same language. He sighed and added. "The young are so very tiresome."

Atarah laughed quietly. "But they keep us interested in life. Why else would we continue to make them when we live forever? We want, no need them livening things up. Without them we would be stagnant."

Victor kissed her hand and murmured. "You have always given wise counsel my love."

However, her words did not seem to give him peace, and when he still sat motionless, lost in thought, Atarah got up to her knees and wrapped both arms around him. "We will keep the brother and the doppelganger away from him. He is better with us."

"I don't know why I care." Victor mused. He turned his head to the side and confided in Atarah. "He actually made me remember a time when I still had sons. Perhaps that's why. He reminds me that I was once human." He smiled ruefully. "Does that mean I am finally becoming senile?"

She rested her head against his. "It is not a bad thing to remember . . not a bad thing to feel for this boy man . . so long as we put our survival first."

He nodded and twisted around to lie down, pulling her onto his chest. They willed themselves to sleep.


	6. Success Sort Of

Damon dropped Elena off at Debbi's rented apartment. Like everything else in the Vegas vampire's life she changed homes every five years or so. "Keeping things fresh." She explained.

She had always had a soft spot for the handsome blue-eyed vampire so when Damon asked her to help him she cheerfully agreed to keep Elena at her place and welcomed her with open arms. Besides, Debbi loved company and assured both of them they would have a fun 'girl's night'.

Damon, having taken care of Elena's safety, felt free to move ahead with his plan. He refused to accept defeat and the plan he had thought up was desperate with very little chance of success and a possible bad outcome for him. In short, it was his favorite type of plan.

Damon dressed carefully, pausing to check himself out in the mirror. A last minute adjustment of his tie, a satisfied nod, a cocky wink, and he headed out.

He struck out at the first couple of places he tried but the third one was the charm. He was stopped at the door as expected but when he said the magic words "I'm a friend of Victor's." the bouncer at the door spoke into his earpiece. After a few moments the hard eyes turned to him, unchained the rope, and motioned him through.

He was met just inside the door by a vampire he recognized from his first meeting with the Old ones. The man wore an amused smile. "Victor would like to see who is using his name. I seriously doubt if he will be astonished that it is you."

A smiling, confident Damon swaggered after his escort. He was led past the public rooms to a private area with gaming tables. Victor was in the midst of a game of chance and didn't immediately look up or in any way recognize Damon's presence. Damon, arms folded, watched quietly as the cards were laid and the stakes raised. Once the current hand was decided Victor acknowledged him.

"Why am I not surprised to see you?" Victor seemed resigned to Damon's presence.

"I have a proposition for you." Damon boldly suggested.

Victor's eyebrows rose and he gestured indicating Damon should continue.

"A little game of chance." Damon proposed.

"And the stakes?" Victor inquired.

"If I win I get to talk to my brother." Damon responded.

Victor leaned back and sighed. "You are an annoying pest." He did, however, seem to consider Damon's offer. "What are you proposing to put up for your portion of the ante?"

"Any amount of money you want." Damon blithely answered. He didn't think Victor would accept that but it was worth a try.

He was correct. Victor just looked bored. "There is no amount of money you could possibly offer that would be of any interest to me."

Victor seemed about to dismiss him when Atarah slinked over. She examined Damon with the same intensity a cat would a mouse. She circled up behind her mate and nuzzled his ear.

Damon was secretly pleased to see her. He was relying on her to push her mate into the real deal he was going to suggest. He smiled his sexiest come hither smile, the one that had won him a score of uncompelled women, including an Original vampire.

"How about I put myself up as the ante?"

Atarah's eyes burned with a lustful fire and she licked her red full lips with anticipation. A throaty laugh escaped her. Eyes still on Damon she purred in Victor's ear. "I like this bet."

An amused smile lightened Victor's somber face for a moment. He knew his mate and her appetites. In truth he himself was not immune to Damon's charm.

He spoke in one of their common archaic languages. "Since it is a game of chance there is a possibility he might win. My honor will require that Stefan meet his brother."

Atarah answered in the same tongue. "After your talk last night I think he will yield to our request. If you explain that it is a matter of honor and you would have to kill his brother rather than lose face Stefan will agree. He will not let his brother die."

Victor nodded thoughtfully. "You speak truth. As much as he runs away from him and the girl I believe he would suffer anything rather than see them hurt."

Damon while maintaining a calm facade was fidgeting inside. The only word he could pick out was Stefan's name and their expressions gave nothing away. He had a chilling moment of doubt that Victor would go for his proposal.

Atarah leaned against her mate angling her lush body to show off her curves. An inviting smile graced her lovely face as she huskily accepted his proposal. "Victor will play if we get you for a night. That's fair, wouldn't you say? A night with your brother against a night with you."

Damon didn't let his inner sigh of relief show. This was everything he had hoped for. This wouldn't be his first time in a threesome so even if he lost as a backup plan he still had a chance to get closer to Atarah. He was confident enough in himself and his skill to wheedle himself into the inner set through her. It would leave the door open for a future meeting with his brother.

"It's a deal." Damon smiled at her, using his flirty eyes tell her it was her he wanted all along. Her head lifted proudly and she flashed him a knowing smile in return.

He felt no reticence about deceiving or falsely leading her on. Wouldn't be the first time he had used his charm and looks to get what he wanted. Now he just had to win. The others at the table rose leaving the field to the two combatants. As he sat he smugly pronounced. "By the way this isn't really fair. I'm ten times better than my brother. The stakes are lopsided."

Victor only rolled his eyes at his egotistical banter while the rest of the vampires including Atarah laughed. Victor requested a fresh pack of cards. While he was waiting for the new deck he spoke in a lilting language. Two of his entourage nodded and left.

Damon's eyes suspiciously followed their retreating backs but neither Victor nor Atarah paid any attention to his concern.

He forgot about them once the cards came. He shuffled the deck and passed it to Victor to cut. He efficiently dealt the cards. The fact that Cuban cigars and that exceptional brandy Victor enjoyed soon made an appearance in no way impaired his ability to concentrate. He was in no way disconcerted by the fact that his body was on the line. This was actually the type of "guys" night that he enjoyed. High stakes, the best cigars, excellent booze, and an audience. Right up his alley.

Lady Luck and skill were both on his side this night and at the end of two hours he found himself the winner.

Damon sighed deeply and slouched a little in the comfortable chair. The first step in his mini battle plan was successful and it was all up to Victor now. Hopefully he would honor the deal but there wasn't a thing he could do if the Old one didn't.

Victor took his defeat calmly and without acrimony. Victor motioned over a male and female vampire and spoke to them in English. "Go to the house and fetch Stefan. Explain the bet and that he must talk to his brother. Emphasize that this is a debt of honor for me and unless he wants the outcome that we spoke about last night he will do as I say. Bring him to Binion's in Old Vegas."

The two nodded respectfully and left.

Atarah slipped behind Damon and whispered regretfully in his ear. "It would have been fun."

He gently brought her hand to his lips and whispered back. "Perhaps another time."

She shrugged and walked away, hips swinging in an exaggerated sway.

Victor took a pen and notepad out of his breast pocket, wrote an address down for Damon, and ripped out the sheet. He slid it across the table. Damon reached for it but Victor did not relinquish it. When Damon looked up inquiringly Victor warned. "Do not for a moment think about absconding with your brother. Elena will die if he is not returned to me."

Damon eyes widened a fraction and he blinked. Victor continued. "Yes, I know you tried to hide her but as soon as you showed up I investigated how you tracked us down. Your friend Debbi with an I as she prefers to be called is already dead. A stake through the heart is an excellent warning to those who would give out information about us."

Victor was calm but firm. "I will not be challenged."

Damon closed his eyes briefly as a sick feeling hit him in the pit of his stomach. He quickly squelched it. Debbi had never been more to him than a temporary diversion when he was bored but she was a good hearted person and he regretted that her death came from helping him. His face hardened and his eyes narrowed against the pain of her passing.

He angrily wrenched the paper out from under Victor's fingers and rose from the table without speaking. His eyes, however, told Victor he could cheerfully kill him and this would not be forgotten. He stormed out and headed towards Old Vegas.

Damon waited in the crowded noisy bar located in one of the original hotels in Old Vegas. This was a far less rarified atmosphere than Victor's favorite haunts. The smell of cigarettes, stale booze, and sweat crazed gamblers was overwhelming. The constant ringing of slot machines was never ending and annoying but it would cover their words from any listening vampires. The garish red and purple rugs were stained and littered with cigarette butts but drinks were free for the gamblers and the slots were cheap.

He idly played blackjack on the sticky bar while waiting for his brother. Suddenly he sensed him. He turned quickly to see an unhappy Stefan standing behind him. His brother wouldn't meet his eyes. His hands were jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket and his posture was stiff and unyielding.

Damon tapped the person next to him. "This seat's taken." He dilated his pupils and the person apologizing profusely, grabbed his drink and left.

Damon waved the bartender over and ordered him a bourbon.

As Stefan remained standing Damon ordered. "Sit!"

Stefan sat, his hands clenched in his lap, refusing to touch the bourbon the bartender placed in front of him.

Damon looked at him for a moment before starting. "Why? Why did you run out on us when we needed you? And to them? Are you crazy? I never met a more perverted duo. How could you stay with them?"

Damon watched as Stefan just pressed his lips into a thin line and refused to speak. He knew he wasn't getting anywhere yelling at his brother but he needed to vent his emotions.

He started again, his voice expressing his concern. "We were worried about you, bro. Both of us."

Stefan gave an amused jerk and spoke his first words. "Really? Whatcha do? Tell your puppy dog that she was supposed to be concerned about me. Doesn't that make me feel better?"

Damon winced. "I can't help the sire bond Stefan. It is what it is."

He sighed deeply and took a slug of whiskey. "Why are you with them?"

Stefan shrugged. "Why not? At least I know what they want."

He finally turned to look at his brother. "There's no lying there Damon. They don't pretend. There's no betrayal."

Damon shifted his gaze away from the accusation in those green eyes. "I didn't want to . . "

Stefan interrupted him. "What part didn't you want? To fall into bed with my girlfriend the day after we broke up? To lie to me and tell me you were going to unsire her?"

His voice was bitter as he continued. "What was good for me around you two? To have my heart ripped out over and over again. To have her tell me she didn't even remember loving me. To have her tell me she didn't want to be human and I was wasting my time."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them until Stefan spoke again. "I'm what? One hundred and sixty four? Sixty six? Sixty seven?

"You don't know how old you are?" Damon's voice expressed his astonishment.

"Yah, well I don't celebrate my birthday anymore so it's tough to keep track." Stefan toyed with his drink.

Damon looked down, shaking his head. "You make this tough on me bro. Everything I say just keeps pointing out where I've gone wrong. I'm sorry about Lexi."

"That wasn't really my intent. I was going to say it's time I put the dreams and the what if's behind me. Time I accepted the reality of what I am and what my life will be." Defeat was evident in Stefan's voice and the slump of his shoulders.

He spoke again before Damon had a chance to respond. "Then just think about what I've done. Tricked you with vervain and tried to lock you up for fifty years. Lied to you about the spellbook for the tomb. Killed Andie. Was responsible for Elena dying." Stefan laughed softly. "Scratch that last one. Worked out fine for you."

Damon winced again.

Damon looked over at the now expressionless face and the defeated green eyes and a sense of déjà vu washed over him. A kaleidoscope of human Stefan faces threatened to make him dizzy; laughing Stefan learning how to play the new game of football, worried Stefan intervening one more time between an angry him and his father, a mischievous Stefan innocently enjoying the fact that Katherine had chosen him and for the first time he had one upped his handsome older brother; a sincere Stefan trying to assure his brother he hadn't betrayed him and Katherine, an admiring Stefan watching his brother finish putting on his army uniform.

A pain sharper than a wooden stake pierced his heart and he could have cheerfully died rather than bear the agony of it. This was not supposed to be. He couldn't accept this shadow of a Stefan. He would not accept it.

Damon looked at the bar and raised his glass. He took another slug and wiggled his fingers at the bartender for a refill.

"This is not good for you Stefan. Come home and we can start over." He pleaded.

Stefan shook his head. "What could possibly be better at home? I'm not allowed to kill here Damon. They know how it tears me up when I lose control. They stop me."

Stefan finally picked up the liquor and he drained it in one shot, enjoying the burn in his belly. "You two only fuel the rage. They help me control it."

"And what do they ask from you in return?" Damon fired back.

"Sex and blood." Stefan spoke bluntly. "Payment for services rendered. But at least I know what they want."

Damon shook his head. "This is not the life you should be living. I never wanted this to happen to you."

"Well it did and it works." Stefan rubbed his temples wearily and then cupped his hands over his mouth, elbows on the bar supporting his face.

Damon tentatively put a hand on his brother's shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

"It is what it is Damon." Stefan sat up straight. "The thought of seeing her again makes me want to kill myself. " He laughed harshly. "I don't want to be around either of you. Enough betrayals. Enough lies. Enjoy your lives together. Mine has nothing to do with you anymore."

Damon whispered to him. "I'm not leaving you here. Take this." Damon slipped a cell phone into his brother's hand. "We can set up a plan to whisk you out of here."

He was beyond frustrated when Stefan placed the cell phone openly on the bar. His gaze was unrelenting. "I said go away. I won't go back with you."

Stefan stood. "You got the talk that you won. Go back to Mystic Falls or wherever you two want to go but leave me alone."

Damon stood also. "We're still brothers Stefan. We're still family." He held out his right hand, unconsciously mimicking the gesture his brother had used to reunite them after their first major breech.

Stefan looked down at the outstretched hand and then up to his brother's face. "Family doesn't do to each other what we've done."

He stepped close bringing his lips to within a hair's breadth of Damon's ear. "If you really want to do something for me then make sure I never see your or your sired girlfriend's face again. You spot me first you leave. That's the only thing you can ever do for me again."

He brushed past his brother. A man and a woman that Damon recognized leaning against a slot machine straightened up as Stefan walked up to them. They quickly fell into pace, one on each side of him. The man looked back as if insuring Damon wasn't following. The woman was talking on a cell phone as she walked.

Damon slowly sat back down on the barstool. A patron came up and said hopefully. "This seat empty?"

"It's taken." He said absently.

He hung his head staring at his glass, thinking. When the bartender came by and asked if he wanted another he raised his eyes and ordered. "Keep filling it as soon as I empty the glass."

"Anything in particular?" The compelled bartender asked.

"Might as well make it the cheap stuff. In a short time I won't care anymore."

He stayed that way until Elena came in. She looked miserable. "Oh Damon, they killed Deb . . "

"I know." He interrupted her.

"I tried to argue with them . . fight them . . . " She made a helpless gesture. "Nothing worked. I couldn't stop them." Her voice reflected her pain.

He tried for a nonchalant shrug and tone. "Collateral Damage."

Elena seeing the true pain in his eyes wasn't fooled. She touched his shoulder consolingly before taking the bar stool next to him.

"How did it go with Stefan?" She asked after a moment.

"Not good." He tried for a joke. "Hey, at least he didn't stab me."

She smiled tremulously knowing he was upset. "What do we do now Damon? We don't have a chance unless he cooperates and it sounds like he won't." She shook her head sadly. "He must hate us."

She shrugged helplessly again. "We're outnumbered and we're not strong enough."

Damon took another swig of whiskey and looked at her. Suddenly he grinned. "You're right. We're not strong enough." He put special emphasis on the 'We're'.

She looked at him and saw his trademark Damon smirk. "What're you up to?" She asked curiously.

"I just thought of an awesome plan." He bragged. "This is an awesome plan even for me . . the king of awesomeness." He laughed to himself. "Truly spectacular."

He pulled out his cell phone. Elena's eyes widened as she listened to his whispered conversation. There were several calls and he had to do a lot of explaining, pleading, and convincing but for the first time since they got here she thought maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.


	7. Confrontation

Victor paused in the act of raising his fork to his mouth. The mouth watering delicacy that was the specialty here was suspended in midair. His attention was caught by a commotion near the entrance of the very exclusive nightclub that frequently enjoyed his patronage. Atarah looked sharply at his arrested expression and then transferred her attention to the same spot. The others joining them at their table were slower to react to his distraction. Conversation gradually ceased as they caught Victor's increasingly concerned visage.

The people on the crowded dance floor cleared a path and there in the center, like Moses parting the Red Sea, was Klaus. His gait was unhurried, his demeanor lordly. He approached the table, head held high, shoulders back, his fluid stride reminiscent of a male lion confidently surveying his domain.

His face was neutral. No anger was evident but neither was there any geniality.

Damon and Elena trailing in his wake were virtually invisible as all eyes focused on Klaus.

Victor laid down his utensils and calmly waited, his face giving away nothing of his true feelings. Atarah followed suit, eyes narrowed watchfully. The others appeared confused except for one who whooshed out of the room.

Klaus paid no attention to the one who fled. He appeared indifferent to the cautious and sometime fearful faces of those gathered around the table. Several looked nervously to Victor searching for clues on how to react.

Klaus stopped several feet away from the table and waited.

Victor nodded courteously but did not rise. Damon felt like the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Klaus did not nod in return nor did he smile; if anything his expression hardened and his eyes grew colder as he stared without blinking at the large man.

Victor met his gaze and Damon swore that though no conversation was exchanged there was some type of dialogue.

Victor apparently lost the battle of wills because he pushed back his chair and rose. "My Lord Niklaus." He uttered ceremoniously and bowed. Atarah mimicked him; both never taking their eyes off the hybrid. The other members of their entourage followed their example.

They straightened up and the big man's sheer physical presence should have dwarfed Klaus but somehow did not. The force of Klaus's presence rendered the inequality in their size insignificant.

The greeting seemed to satisfy Klaus because he finally nodded back. "Victor." "Atarah." His voice was polite but chilly.

"I would talk with you." The hybrid continued.

"You are most welcome here my Lord." Victor's tone was not as welcoming as his words and he shot a vicious glance at Damon, acknowledging his presence for the first time.

Klaus, catching the look, didn't comment on it or allow his face to betray his amusement. One regal glance and a chair was immediately vacated, the former occupant politely offering it to him. He sat confidently, completely at ease. "It's been awhile, my brother's first born. Have you seen him lately?"

Victor sat back down and played with his drink. He jerked his head at one of the vampires dancing attendance on him. "Please get my Lord NIklaus a . . ah whiskey?" He raised an eyebrow at Klaus seeking approval.

"That will be fine." Klaus leaned back, smiling slightly now that his dominance had been acknowledged.

"I did see Kol about two years ago." Victor admitted. "Very briefly."

Klaus looked inquiringly. "Did he say where he was going?"

Atarah had also sat. She smiled as she sipped her martini. As she frequently did she answered for her mate. "He didn't say my Lord but I somehow . . ah . . how shall I say it . . I got the impression it was someplace where you would not be. No offense taken I hope?"

Klaus's mouth twisted slightly. "None taken. Kol has always had the sense not to cross someone stronger than himself."

"Point taken." She knew she was being given a veiled warning that could easily turn to a threat. "We have never crossed you My Lord."

Klaus smiled with his mouth only. The smile never reached his eyes. "Not openly at least."

Neither Victor nor Atarah responded to the comment. Victor paused before speaking, carefully choosing his words, as if the two men were duelists en garde.

"To what do we owe the honor of a visit from you? You normally do not seek out your brother's kin."

"You have something that belongs to me." Klaus held up a whiskey that was placed in front of him. He tilted it to admire the deep amber color and then drank, rolling it around his mouth. "Excellent."

Victor and Atarah both stiffened. This time it was Atarah that shot a deadly glare at Damon and Elena. So lethal was the look that Damon felt Elena's hand tremble in his. He squeezed it reassuringly even though he wasn't feeling very secure at the moment. If Klaus wasn't here he knew they would both be dead and if Klaus didn't continue to champion them it was still a very real possibility.

Damon silently prayed. _Please Lord, let him really have the hots for Blondie or we're dead meat_.

Atarah objected vehemently. "He's ours!"

Victor slid a hand under the cover of the table lightly squeezing her arm, warning her to be careful. "What she means is that we have nurtured the boy, made him part of our family. You have never shown any interest in a ripper. You would have our unending gratitude if you left him with us. Naturally we would bring him to you whenever you wanted him. Careful handling is required or he could succumb to the urge to kill himself."

Klaus looked at him over his whiskey glass. "Are you saying you won't give me what I ask for?" He made his words a challenge.

Victor was too seasoned a warrior to blatantly defy him. "I only ask that you consider granting us this favor. And consider what is best for Stefan." He glowered at Damon. "Some of his former companions did him more harm than good." Damon defiantly returned the look.

"I do not have to justify myself to you." Klaus said softly, eyes gleaming. He allowed them to go yellow, a not so subtle reminder of his power.

Victor knew this display was done to demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that Klaus had broken the curse and was even more powerful than before. He also knew he was treading into dangerous territory by continuing to thwart him. Victor had never cared for the Original and it galled him that he had to give way to him but Klaus could and would kill him if he didn't hand over Stefan. He thought briefly and then abandoned the idea of running. One thing was certain - Klaus never forgave and never forgot. He would ultimately extract vengeance. Atarah seemed to know what her mate was thinking because now it was her turn to unobtrusively reach a hand over and gently squeeze his thigh while saying.

"We will of course do whatever you ask, My Lord."

Klaus gave them a happy smile, showing his dimples. "Well I'll give you some time to pack him up."

He looked over his shoulder at Damon and Elena. "Tickets home are waiting at the airport for you. Go now."

He turned a sharp gaze on Victor. "Is it necessary for me to say I won't tolerate any harm being done to the doppelganger or her sire?"

Victor looked unhappy but resigned. "Of course."

Damon wanted to object . . wanted to wait for his brother. His lips had barely parted when he remembered a conversation they had when they met Klaus at the airport. Klaus had stressed that Victor was a power in his own right. They needed to show a united front and if Damon in any way contradicted him or attempted to argue with him in front of the Vegas vampires his defiance would be punished.

"Argue with me Damon .. cross me in any way . . and I will leave Elena with them." Damon, despite himself, was convinced by the matter-of-fact tone Klaus used. He would have felt more confident if Klaus had blustered or shouted. It was the total lack of feeling in his voice that made Damon believe he would do it.

Damon pressed his lips together, nodded, and quickly shepherded Elena out of the room. Besides, he was not eager to be anywhere near Victor or Atarah when Klaus wasn't around to shield them. He wouldn't be showing his face in Vegas for the next couple of hundred years at a minimum.

When the two had left Klaus pushed back his chair and stood. "Atarah my luv. Let's dance. I haven't had a really good partner since I lost my favorite witch."


	8. Starting Over

Victor assured Klaus. "He is on his way."

Klaus nodded, intrigued when Victor did not immediately leave.

"May I speak frankly Niklaus?" The formal manner required a formal answer.

"You may." Klaus was really curious now.

"You do not do Stefan a kindness by forcing him to return to his brother and the doppelganger. I know that he loves them but it is still torture for him to be around them. A reminder of his failings, of his weakness."

Klaus mulled the words over in his mind, impressed in spite of himself by the truth of Victor's words.

"You care for his well being then?" Klaus finally asked.

Victor searched his feelings before answering. "I admire him. He fights a constant battle; a battle he cannot win but still he continues fighting. Yes, he threatens to give up, to die but he does not. He fights against all odds; fights when he knows he must lose the ultimate battle."

Victor paused before saying. "If we had met in another time, an earlier age, I would have sacrificed his heart to the Gods in the hope that I would absorb his courage."

Klaus nodded thoughtfully. "I understand you." Klaus overcame a brief inner struggle and finally added. "You don't need to fear for him."

Victor glanced sharply at Klaus and what he saw in his face seemed to answer a question for him. He smiled at the hybrid, despite himself. "You are a crafty one Lord Niklaus."

Victor gave a short ceremonial bow and left. He was careful however to not take his eyes off the hybrid; a fact which did him no harm in Klaus's eyes. He would have been stupid to do otherwise.

Klaus did not have to wait long before Stefan arrived, escorted by two vampires, each with a firm grip on an arm. Stefan had blood on his lip and trailing down from his nose, a good indication that he hadn't come willingly.

Klaus nodded at the escorts. "Leave him with me."

As they left Klaus offered him a handkerchief, advising. "Clean yourself up."

Stefan at first showed no gratitude but as Klaus patiently held it out he eventually sighed and rudely snatched it out of his hand. He quickly wiped his face and tried to hand it back.

Klaus gave him a speaking look before saying. "Yours now."

A chauffeur came around and politely opened the door, standing next to it. Klaus indicated Stefan should get in first and he immediately slid in after him. The door was quietly closed and they were soon moving.

The limo was luxurious and Klaus immediately set about making himself comfortable. He reached forward and filled a flute of champagne resting it next to his right arm. He kicked off his boots and pulled out paperwork from a leather satchel that Stefan hadn't noticed when he got in.

AS the limo drove to the airport Stefan, keeping his torso facing straight ahead, surreptitiously moved his hand to test the door handle.

Klaus hearing the tiny sound didn't bother to look up from the papers he was studying. "The child locks are on Stefan. I have learned something about you."

"I can't go back there." Stefan sounded desperate. His voice changed to pleading. "Please don't make me go back there."

Klaus eyes focused on the page held up in front of him nonchalantly said. "We're not going back to Mystic Falls."

Stefan, locked in his own train of thought, continued. "I can't do it, I can . . ." He stopped abruptly as Klaus's words finally penetrated through his obsessive rant.

He turned to stare at Klaus calmly reading a document and comparing it to a paper on his lap, legs stretched out, casually crossed at the ankles.

Stefan twisted on the seat so his body faced Klaus. "What did you say?"

When Klaus didn't respond Stefan reached a hand out to clamp on Klaus's arm. "What did you say?" He repeated.

Klaus, a sly smile on his face, finally looked at him. "I said we're not going to Mystic Falls."

He turned back to his documents as Stefan absorbed the impact of what he was saying. "Why?" Was his next question, Immediately followed by. "Where are we going?"

Klaus sighed and lowered the manuscript to his lap. "What a chatty annoying pest you are?" He mock scolded but there was no real anger in his voice.

"We are going to Italy. I promised a certain blonde vampire that I have been secretly courting for two years that I would show her the private vaults at the Vatican. One of my paintings is there." Klaus leaned back and smiled fondly. "Said blonde insisted that you accompany us."

Stefan was stunned speechless. The word courting brought back his youth when a suitor would sit in his best clothes in the family front parlor and make laborious conversation under the careful eyes of a parent or elderly member of the family.

As he mulled it over in his mind he was startled to find that he was not appalled by this. Caroline being courted implied that she was treated with a reverence he felt she deserved.

Klaus shot a quick glance at him from under his brows. "Do I take your silence to mean that you don't object?"

Stefan rubbed a hand over his face. His voice was hesitant. "I don't know what to think. You surprised me."

Klaus put down his papers, turning in his seat towards Stefan. "She does not approve of certain of my actions. But as a certain hybrid became more unpredictable and started to come apart it became harder for her to find the differences between us. To say with certainty he was good and I was bad. The line became increasingly difficult for her to draw. We did the same deeds, just for different reasons."

Stefan looked troubled now.

Klaus was hopeful that Stefan's distress would work to his advantage. He and Caroline had many heart-to-heart discussions over the past two years and he was privy to the talks the two had about the differences between them and Klaus. Or even more importantly was there really a difference.

"I have never made a secret of the fact that I fancy her. But I want her to trust me before we go further. I want a family Stefan. I'm tired of being alone." Klaus was pensive.

"I can't trust my siblings and they've deserted me anyways. My hybrids weren't what I thought they would be." Now his face was haunted by old failures. "You accused me of trying to create servants. Maybe I was. You can tell me I told you so."

Stefan took no joy in his obvious pain. He hung his head. "Nope. I can't trust the people I thought I could either." He confessed.

"Two lost souls." Klaus sighed. He looked again at Stefan. "There was a time when I called you brother. I can't tell you how much that meant to me. I'm sorry I had to ruin it."

Stefan looked up to meet his eyes. The green eyes were filled with sorrow. "I betrayed you too."

Klaus smiled sadly. "You did it all for love."

Stefan's laugh was bitter. "Yeah, for love. I did so much for love. Lost myself, my soul, my self respect. Love is not all it's cracked up to be."

"Have you given up on family totally?" Klaus asked.

Stefan tilted his head, not sure what Klaus was getting at. "My brother and the girl I loved betrayed me. I want nothing to do with them."

"How about giving family another shot? Caroline and I want you as brother, as friend, as family. We're all seasoned veterans of the love wars, the family battles. I think we're all ready for a little peace."

Stefan looked at him for a long time, searching for sincerity. What he saw in Klaus's face seemed to reassure him. A little smile broke out on his face. He leaned back and kicked off his boots.

"How about sharing that champagne brother?"

~ FIN ~


End file.
